Out of Bounds
by BrilliantLady
Summary: Fred and George Weasley saw the name "Forbidden Forest" as a cute advisory warning to be disregarded. Certainly they weren't going to pay any more attention to Dumbledore's warning threat of a "very painful death" for trespassers in the forbidden corridor. Time to give the challenges there a try! Complete.


Fred and George leapt through the curtain of black fire, and landed on the stone floor in synchronised unison.

"Wands ready!" cried George.

George scanned the right side of the room, and Fred look around alertly to the left, but there didn't seem to be any immediate threats in this new room. "All I see is a mirror, Fred."

"Clear on the left, George."

George's gaze was caught by the mirror, and he gazed into it raptly. "The mirror's enchanted! I see us – we're opening a joke shop just like we always dreamed! We're so successful, Zonko's has been driven out of business!"

Fred glanced at it too, and was similarly entranced. "Hey! You're right! And mum is sobbing she's so proud, and apologizing for ever doubting us!"

"Really? I don't see her there. Oh no, there she is. Cool!"

"Enchanted to stop you looking away?"

"Obviously."

"Seventh challenge – last one. Looking away in 3… 2… 1… Go!"

They spun around together to face away from the mirror. "Time?" asked Fred.

George pulled out a battered old pocket watch from his robe pocket. "Eleven thirty-one. So we did that in seven minutes! We beat Diggory's time!"

The twins high-fived each other.

"That's a new best record time! That'll give us another five points each for Gryffindor in the rankings! We're ahead of Ravenclaw again!"

Dumbledore sighed as the alarm went off again late that evening. He got one of the old Headmasters to check with one of the portraits in the third floor hallway – it was just students again, like usual.

He went wearily downstairs again to fix the maze of challenges protecting the Philosopher's Stone. He woke the sleeping Cerberus. No doubt Professor Flitwick would be glad to hear his missing Wizarding Wireless had been found. He made a mental note to tell Professor Sprout they'd need some more Devil's Snare, and put an increasingly battered little flying key back in the air with the others.

The chess set surprised him. Usually he needed to do a lot of repairs as students blasted or played their way through. But this time the chessmen had been very thoroughly glued to the board with some kind of extremely sticky potion. The general counter-spell Finite didn't work on a potion, and a couple of other spells failed to help - this glue was tough. In the end he resorted to some acid spells on the bases of the chess pieces, and then repaired the damage afterwards.

In the next room he found the rather angry troll restrained with magical ropes, and decided to free it on his way out.

Professor Snape would no doubt be happy to hear he wouldn't need to refill his potions bottles this time – the latest students to go through the underground chambers appeared to have come prepared. Snape's sneering suggestion that filling _all_ the bottles with an emetic or the Draught of Living Death would cut down on the number of students running the gauntlet was being taken under advisement. His muttered alternative idea about how filling them all with poison would be even _better_ , and would "thin out the number of ignoramuses who cannot solve a simple riddle" was being ignored.

The Mirror of Erised was, thankfully, undamaged by the latest explorers. He did have to erase some red words off the wall where someone had left some graffiti, however. "Seven minutes! Beat that!" didn't really suit the air of mysterious menace he hoped this final challenge would present to the individual who was _supposed_ to be making their way through the obstacles to the trap at the end.

Minerva was being intolerably smug about the whole thing. Every single time they met in his office she liked to point out that she had been completely right in her advice about how telling students "Don't go there, certain death!" was like waving a red flag at a bull. Especially for her Gryffindors.

Why Quirrell had yet to take the bait Dumbledore had no idea – perhaps he'd heard rumours and thought it was too easy. Perhaps Quirrell's timidity was wearing off on the spirit Dumbledore strongly suspected he was hosting. Whatever the reason, he hoped the man would hurry up. Especially since Gryffindor should now be holding the lead in the senior students' little competition.


End file.
